


Worthless

by happylemonsociety



Category: The Maze Runner (2014), The Maze Runner Series - James Dashner
Genre: Angst, M/M, Self-Harm, Self-Hatred
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-12-09
Updated: 2015-01-13
Packaged: 2018-02-28 18:36:13
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 7
Words: 3,083
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2742836
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/happylemonsociety/pseuds/happylemonsociety
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>This isn't a fan-fiction for young children. It swears and may be a trigger for you so read at your own risk. There is no romance in this fan-fiction. It's about. Well. You'll see.</p>
    </blockquote>





	1. How It Started

**Author's Note:**

> This isn't a fan-fiction for young children. It swears and may be a trigger for you so read at your own risk. There is no romance in this fan-fiction. It's about. Well. You'll see.

Newt hit the wall with a sound that can only be described as a sickening thump. He slid down the wall and collapsed in an unmoving heap on the floor. 

"You're worthless boy! You're a fucking useless, idiotic, lazy, worthless, self-harming freak! I hope you rot in hell. Now GET. OUT. OF. MY. HOUSE!" On the final word, Newt's father kicked him in the stomach, releasing any air Newt could've used to try and recover. 

But still, Newt hauled himself up, using the wall for support. He took his phone from the sideboard and limped out the door. 

Once he had rounded the corner from his fathers house, he slumped against a neighbours wall and slipped his headphones into his ears, hearing Drown by Front Porch Step echo through his brain as he fingered the bruises, cuts and scars inflicted by his father. 

God he hated that man. The fact that they shared any blood was a constant weapon used by the big man to tear Newt down even more. 

Just as the song switched to Daughter by Medicine, it began to rain. "Fuck it!" He cried. He pushed himself off the wall and began to unzip his jacket while he walked. He didn't know where the hell he was going to go. Just that he had to get away from this place. This neighbourhood didn't fit him and he needed to be somewhere less posh. "Less fucking fancy." He said to himself. Checking the time on his phone, he found it to be 2.03 am. His shirt now fully soaked through, cleansing his wounds and supposedly his soul, he pulled his jacket back on and picked his black conversed feet up off the ground, walking towards God knows where. 

 

He had no money, no friends, no family (at least none that wanted him,) no hope, so it would seem. But he was a fucking determined kid, despite what he'd been through, and he was going to win this one. 

So as Bullet by Hollywood Undead tuned into his ears, the beats matching his steps, he began his endless walk.


	2. Thomas' Beginning

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> So I've decided this series is the characters in pain. Newtmas may meet in the end? Or soon? I don't know yet. *trigger warning* Enjoy.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wrote this to http://8tracks.com/infinitealexisa/bad-habits again.

Thomas sat curled up in a beanbag in the school library drawing, as per usual. As per usual, three boys walked into the room he was sitting in at precisely twelve o'clock. As per usual, they hauled him to his feet, threw his book across the room, the pencils soon following. 

They laughed and laughed as he tried to escape their grip. They were laughing at his lack of social status, laughing at the fact that he had no friends. He tried to punch them in an attempt to escape, but they beat him up. Telling him he had no hope for a future in anything. The tougher, bigger, burlier guys cornered him in the room's most discreet spot, cursing and spitting at him. 

"Faggot!"  
"Creep!"  
"Gay!"  
"Weirdo!"  
"Nerd!"  
"I hope you kill yourself, you retard! No one gives a fuck about you. Why are you delaying the inevitable?!"

The shouts got softer as the people calling them moved away. When he was sure they were gone, Thomas stood up and grabbed his art book and pencils, picked his beanie up off the floor and ran out of the school, tears dripping down his cheeks. As he made his way past the secluded alleys and quiet backyards of neighbouring houses he tripped several times. Crashing into trash cans and boxes on the way through, unable to see past his tears. The sun was setting, casting the sky an ugly grey and orange hue. Thomas tore through the front lawn of his house, fumbled around for the key to the front door, almost losing grip on the bunch of keys. Its jingling created a series of unbearably high pitched clinking noises, like thousands of children screaming, almost driving Thomas to the point of insanity. His head throbbed violently and he couldn't seem to stop his hand shaking enough to get the key in the door. When he finally did, he stumbled inside and slammed the door shut, falling against it and shifting down to the floor. He let out a cry of pain, attempting to clear his head. 

He stumbled up and ran, ascending the stairs three at a time, with noises ringing in his ear. Cries, laughter, jeering, screams, giggles, shouts. He ran into his room and shut the door.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have decided I will TRY and put Newtmas in soon. It will probably be angsty though. Warning.


	3. It's An Option

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Thomas again. I feel I can do more for him right now. But don't worry, I will write more from Newt soon.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> everdeenEspecially song no. 6

Immediately, silence filled the expanse. There were no more voices. No more cries, laughter, jeering, screams or giggles. Thomas could almost hear the dust particles float around the room. Horizontal rays of orange-red sunlight shone through the blinds into the dark room, highlighting the peaceful dust particles slowly settling onto the wooden floor. Thomas took a few deep breaths. Then finally, he screamed.

He screamed at the top of his lungs, eyes shut, blocking out the world. He screamed until he could hear nothing but the tortured phlegm in his throat, until the powerful sound waves rebounded off the walls of his tiny room and started pressing against his own ear drums, until all his anger expelled itself out of his body. When he finally had no more breath, he stopped and breathed in and out rapidly, filling his exhausted lungs with fresh oxygen. Then he threw himself onto his bed and started sobbing. 

It would be much better, he thought, to just DIE. I would be free from this pain, I could make this all stop and just be free from this life. Many options ran through his head. Jumping off the building would be too cliche - there might even be a chance where nobody would notice his body, laying there, dead. Placing himself on the railway tracks seemed like a good choice, but he was afraid that nobody would contact his parents, might instead just think of it as another teenage suicide, not worth bothering about.

Dying isn't as hard to think about as it seems, he thought. It was even a relief to think about. He rose and walked over to his mirror. He looked into the mirror and smiled. His eyes were swollen and his face was red. There were bruises on his cheekbones, arms and legs. There was dried blood on his upper lip. There were beads of sweat and clumps of dirt in his messy, brown hair. "Thomas, the most popular guy in school," he told himself, "everyone wants to see his art," he giggled to himself. His cracked voice echoed throughout the empty house.

He spun and ran over to were he had thrown his sketchbook. He sat down heavily in his chair and opened the book. 

The first page was a drawing of two eyes, a hand covering the left one. As you looked closer at the uncovered eye, you saw that the eye was made up of vines and flowers. The hand had nothing on it except a ring gracing the ring finger. It was a silver ring with the words The Glue embossed on it's front. Thomas clapped a hand to his mouth as tears began to fall, pushing the book away to stop it getting wet. 

Images of a boy around his age, tall, well-built, with fluffy blond hair and pale, grey-blue eyes began to swirl around Thomas' mind. He fell headfirst into a memory and allowed it to engulf him. 

 

The boy was laughing. He stood behind Thomas and wrapped his long arms around his waist. He rested his head on Thomas' shoulder, and closed his eyes. Thomas felt warm and comfortable, so he closed his eyes and swayed side to side gently, embracing the moment. He could feel the boy's breath on his ear, inhaling and exhaling at a constant, slow pace.

He felt safe, as if nothing could hurt him. 

"This world doesn't understand what they're missing out on," the boy whispered. Thomas opened his eyes and looked into the boy's eyes over his own shoulder. His facial features were perfect - his nose was finely chiselled, his cheekbones were raised at a perfect angle, his lips were curved peacefully, and his eyelashes were long and smooth. The both of them stared at each other for what seemed like years. 

"I love you," Thomas whispered, immediately regretting it. What if the boy didn't return the feeling? 

"I love you too Thomas." The boy sighed in a contented tone. 

Thomas' heart grew with happiness and he rested his head on the boy's shoulder, looking out at the view before them. They were on a magnificent mountaintop overlooking the sea. 

"This world is uncaring and selfish," the boy spoke softly. He hugged Thomas tighter, rested his lips on his cheek, and closed his eyes once more. Thomas could feel the boy's warmth embrace him, and it calmed his senses. He wound his hands into the boy's hair and sighed.

 

The boy's name was Newt. He had been Thomas' rock and saviour and everything he needed. Thomas called him The Glue as he was what held Thomas together. Had gotten him the ring for their one year anniversary. 

They both knew pain as Thomas was bullied and self-harmed. Newt was abused by his alcoholic father. Thomas had loved Newt more than anything and believed that Newt felt the same. Had even been told so. That is, of course, until Thomas walked into the flat he and Newt were planning on buying after their graduation to find Newt making out with the guy who owned the flat.

It was almost comical, how easily Newt seemed to be able to choose and place his affections. 

Thomas had cried for a long time after that. His self harming got so bad that his arms and hips looked like battlefields instead of limbs. He began to hate himself and think he was fat, awkward, clumsy, disgusting and he wondered why Newt had ever even bothered with him. He slowly developed a complex where he climbed high buildings to try and make himself feel something. 

 

One day, he fell.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So. Um. Newtmas happened.


	4. His Halted Walk

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> So it's Newt again. Oops. Maybe trigger warning? Haven't written it yet :p

Newt was tired of walking. 

His feet hurt and his mind kept wandering to the boy with the unkempt brown hair and the sparkling eyes with the unwavering stare. 

Thomas.

\------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------ 

 

"You turned every moment we spent together into painful memories. They're sharp, and cut right through me everytime I think about them. Even the sweet, good moments we had have turned into a knife that kills my already broken heart. You pierced my soul; you made me skeptical about people and love. And I hate you. I fucking hate you for that. You turned me into this broken mess, and even if I won't see you again, your touch will be with me for years, or maybe for the rest of my life, who knows! You fucked up my confidence, and I remember every single word you said, I remember how you made me feel like a waste of space. And now the voice that puts me down inside isn't mine anymore, but your voice telling me again how I will never be enough." 

The words Thomas had yelled at him that fateful night rang through him constantly. But he didn't hate the sweet boy for saying that. He couldn't. Everything Thomas said was true. 

Newt had taken Thomas' heart and broken it, stomped all over the pieces and then kept a few for himself, just to make sure Thomas would never be the same again.   
He deserved everything that was said.

\------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------ 

Rain pelted faces, jeans and sweaters soaked in less than a minute, large drops, thick rain, soaked to the skin, rain running down back, feet splash in sudden river on road, howling gale, shelter eyes with hand, feet sodden in shoes, hair stuck to face and head, like being fully dressed in the shower. And through it all, Newt walked.

He figured he might be able to make it to an undercover bus stop where he can take shelter for the rest of the night.

So, he walked.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I wrote this to my Angsty Writing playlist on 8Tracks. Go follow me, my user is cdgeorgia123
> 
> Send me prompts on Tumblr at happylemonsociety and if you want to know me as a person then my kik is gcdrox
> 
> love you all


	5. So, We Meet Again

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Thomas. He fell.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Send me prompts on tumblr for this and in general. I'll give you full credit x

Everything was black. He found himself falling in this darkness, hurtling to an invisible floor. A floor that would most likely kill him if he continued to fall at this speed. The air pushed against his face, so he leaned into the wind and looked straight ahead. The city lay before him like an architect's model, only the matchbox cars were moving along the slim grey lines. The wind whipped his messy hair about his face and he sucked in a deep breath. As gravity took him fiercely toward the concrete below he struggled to claim any of the air that rushed by for his own lungs. Then the whirl of colour settled into the familiar sight of streets, buildings and trees, only they were far bigger. He inhaled deeply. His laughter was heard by no-one but himself, he was pumped, exhilarated. 

 

THOMAS' MOTHERS POINT OF VIEW (this is a once off)

She had grieved so many times. The "thrills" had taken him away a piece at a time. Once he had been the boy that held her hand on the way to swings, squealing with delight and demanding to be pushed higher. He had been generous with his smiles and free with his hugs. In his early teens the remoteness had begun and she chalked it up to hormones. That was her first mistake. Soon after that his grades collapsed and she grieved for the future she had hoped he would have. The night the police brought him home with charges of destroying a neighbours yard after falling in their hedges and he had screamed obscenities at her before storming into the night, her heart had felt like it was beating in a tight cage. With no way to break through his silence a chasm opened between them. After a few weeks of noticing his belongings disappearing and his visits home decreasing she began to cry as if he were dead. This could not be her son. This could not be her life. 

 

THOMAS AGAIN (sorry for the changes. Deal with it)

After he left home for good, he and Newt began looking for apartments. Newt wanted to leave his father's house and Thomas had already left. They were graduating that year and had worked up enough money between the two of them for cheap rent of a meagre apartment, but it would do until they graduated and could work full time.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> http://8tracks.com/tiffanyblewss/thinking-out-loud


	6. Us?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm sorry that they met again so fast. Please please don't hate me.

_All around me is dark and empty. Not just what I see, but what I hear too. I hear nothing. I see nothing. There is nothing. Just black and muteness._

_Wait, there is something, I think. I can't even make out what it is, but something is here. Or there. It is growing louder. I cannot hear it. It is becoming visible. I can't see it. I feel ground beneath my feet, there is a sense of space. I can almost feel my surroundings, but not quite yet. Now it is coming fast._

_Whatever it is, it's growing. My senses are opening up. I see. I hear. I feel. It's enveloping me, but it isn't making me nervous or scared. It just makes me feel alive._

_All of a sudden I am blinded by everything. I am stunned, and I stumble around. I feel weak._

_The lights are glaring, spreading out in colours. I hear pleasant, yet deafening noise. The noise is adrenaline, pumping itself into my body. I grow stronger and more powerful, but I also feel scared. My eyes focus. The brightness and glare is beginning to come together, and the darkness is returning to create a balance. My hearing becomes sharper. I feel strange, but normal. My surroundings seem to be vast._

_Then suddenly, I feel beauty. Beauty beyond words. It is some some sort sort of vibrant beauty -- it is calm, perfect, quiet, noisy. It is moving too quickly until it is all a blur. It slows down, and every image is clear, moving about with purpose, mindlessly, in patterns. I am standing on a path of some sort._

_A street or a road. I take one step, and I almost fall, but the ground catches me. I do not know if I should take the next step. I run. The ground is too hard and safe, and there is this constant feeling that the black mass may give way any time now. I reach a sleek, black wall. Someone brushes past me and I jump. I look at her but she just walks on, turns a corner, then disappears. I try to follow her. I run, and turn at the corner. I stop and see people walking along the colorful, bright, black paths. They are tall, beautiful, each one unique, and walk with no hesitation, leaving a barely visible radiant white glow trailing behind them. They seem to be weightless, their neon bright shoes make no sound on the floor at all._

 

Newt crashed to the ground, a gasp of breath leaping from his mouth he made contact. 

He had fallen off the bus stop. 

He had _fallen off the bloody bus stop_...

 

As he sat up and looked around, he spotted a familiar face walking down the path towards him.

Scrambling to his feet, he brushed himself off and moves toward the figure. The only problem was that he had too much momentum and ended up crashing into the boy. 

 

"Newt?" Came the boys astonished voice. 

Newt climbed off of, yes, that's right, Thomas, and helped him up. Then he pushed a crumpled piece of paper into Thomas' hands and ran.

 

As he sped away, he saw Thomas open the note and read what was inside. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> http://8tracks.com/awakingdream/d-i-s-s-i-p-a-t-e


	7. The Note

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Newt's note to Thomas.

> _I wrote this after you left._
> 
>  

I like to think back when the tender breath we shared was all but my own.

What a stale mist it is within my mouth nowadays.

You flourished in life with such a young heart. There was nothing ever to be changed.

You had figured your heart out long before I could ever set my own.

I knew from the moment I met you my life would become a blur.

No longer would I be able to count the days which I wasn’t happy.

You would become my beacon, my love, my laughter, my life.

How I long for your lips, the teasing chime of your laughter, the gentle breath of sweet nothings in my ear.

 If only you knew how simply broken I am without you.

 

> _Call me at: 0412 984 509_

**_I miss you_ **

 

> **_NEWT_ **

**Author's Note:**

> All of the songs in this story are real songs. Full credit to them.


End file.
